NothingSpecial: gender-bending transformation stories, comics, and occasional poetry =^_^=
We didn't discuss it any further over the weekend; Tammy could tell that I needed space after that conversation, and she probably did too. Thankfully, it didn't feel like there was any tension between us; we were in nearly the same boat, trying to make sense of unfamiliar feelings (or lack-of-feelings) after a major life upset, and we needed time to figure things out. Gil also let me be, and I took the opportunity to do a lot of serious not actually thinking about it.
In my defense, I was pretty sure that was what I needed right now; I hardly knew what to make of it all, and that wasn't going to change in the space of a couple days, whether I obsessed over it or not. Besides, I had an essay to finish for Comp; the instructor had dropped one last assignment on us before Christmas break, to everyone's chagrin. But I got it almost-done pretty quick, and it kept my mind occupied when I really wanted it not to wander, so it worked out.
Emma's too-chipper insistence that Monday was the solstice – and Tuesday was therefore the first day of spring – was also a bit of a distraction. She wasn't, as far as I knew, a neo-pagan or a member of any other group that celebrated it, and she didn't have any festivities planned; in fact, she was flying back home to spend Christmas with the family. Near as I could tell, it was a way to psyche herself up for the long, slow cessation of winter; she'd been feeling the cold more than Tammy or I.
(That was natural, I imagined – she had more exposed skin on her head than the rest of us, and even for normal people it's a major point of heat exchange. In fact, she'd taken to going outside nestled snug in the crook of her arm, wearing an ushanka and wrapped up to the nose in a thick, warm, and tastefully-coordinated scarf.)
It was strange to wake up Monday morning and not have anywhere to be – Comp was my only class for the rest of the week, and that wasn't until the afternoon. I was a little surprised that I didn't just stay in bed; it was dark and overcast and I didn't need the weatherman to tell me that a storm was moving in. Normally, my deep-brain mammalian instincts would be telling me to hunker down and sleep through it; but I didn't have those anymore. Instead, I got up, sprinkled some substrate into Lucky's terrarium, and sat down to put the finishing touches on my essay.
I could hear Tammy get up and start her morning exercises on the other end of the suite, but it wasn't until late into the morning that Emma finally stirred, groaned, and worked her way out of bed. "Guhhh," she moaned, "smoke" billowing with irritation. "It is way the hell too cold out to have to get up today."
"At least the room's heated," I offered.
"Not enough." She stretched, working the kinks out of her back; I wondered if, somewhere out there beyond space and time, her neck was cracking. "Hella glad I'm gonna be out of here tonight and back where winter's a little more reasonable."
"Well, enjoy it for us," I chuckled. Not that I minded the winter terribly, even before becoming a machine; you could get used to pretty much anything if you grew up with it. Though the wind could whip up the hillside from the lake basin pretty good, and when the weather really got serious it could get a bit hairy even for us natives…
"Enjoy it for you!? Are you kidding?" she cackled, picking herself up off the bed and setting herself on the dresser while she browsed through her closet. "I'm gonna be gloating the whole time. We're gonna have spiked cocoa in front of a roaring fire while it's hardly less'n thirty-two degrees out, and I am gonna bask in the decadence of it while you poor souls are stuck here freezing your tits off." She settled on a cashmere sweater, knit leggings, and woolen jumper with a cardigan over top, and started to change.
It took me a moment to parse that, and then another moment of feeling weird about it on a couple levels before I put it out of my mind. I could hear Tammy chuckle in the other room. "Laugh it up," she called over. "I'm gonna be back home myself on Christmas Eve, and you don't even know what you're gonna be missing. You haven't lived until you've had my dad's baklava."
"Yeah, uh-huh," Emma scoffed. "Hey, Sue, speaking of sweets, I'm gonna hit the cafeteria and load up on goodies while they've still got the sugar cookies out. Wanna come? I could use the carrying capacity."
"I'm not your freakin' mule, Emma," I said, rolling my eyes as I got up from my desk. "And I can't even eat them anymore."
"Hey, it's not my fault if the ox that treadeth out the grain has issues with gluten," she said, turning herself to the mirror and fixing her hair.
"It's at least as much your fault as it is any of ours," I grumbled, thinking wistfully back to that pie at the Greenfields' as I got changed. "You're just lucky I need to run down to the print center."
"You know you just miss my company," she teased, "smoke" shimmering merrily. "You could use the printer in the dorm lobby, if you really didn't want to come."
"I'm not touching that thing," I said, face twitching and mechanisms rattling at the memory of it. "I don't know what's wrong with it, but I've seen it switch between color, black-and-white, single- and double-sided in the middle of a job."
"Afraid of catching gremlins from it?" she laughed.
"Suffice to say, I'm not taking any chances." I grabbed my purse, tossed the USB stick with my essay inside, and knelt down next to the terrarium to give Lucky a good-bye pat. I felt the hem of my skirt brush against my fabric "skin" and wondered if I should put on longer socks, but it wasn't like I had to go outside.
Before long, we were back down in the tunnels, as isolated from the weather as we could get. I wondered what it would be like to just live down here, where nobody bothered to come and no storm could touch you…
…but then, you'd never see the spring, either…
Still, I thought, as we emerged from the elevator into the student union, I could kind of see the appeal. The sky above the lake roiled and churned like TV static, and the wind keened against the big glass windows of the cafeteria, an advance scout for whatever was brewing up there. It was going to be a very good night to be indoors.
"Cripes," I said, thinking of it, "you're not flying out of Lakeside, are you? Please tell me you're taking the shuttle down to the Cities, not getting on a puddle-jumper and going through…whatever that's gonna turn into."
Emma gave me a surprised look, thought for a moment, and shrugged. "Uh, no?" she said. "I mean, I have to connect through Bear Lake anyway, and it's three and a half hours by shuttle. I'd get home at like two A.M. if I went that way." She smiled reassuringly as we entered the cafeteria. "Besides, it's not supposed to roll in until after I depart. I checked."
"I guess," I sighed, not as reassured as I'd like to be, and set off in search of tea. "Just…be safe, okay?"
"Roger that," she chuckled, setting herself down, grabbing a paper bowl from the stack by the cereal dispensers, and piling sugar-encrusted stars and snowmen into it. I snagged a paper cup and surveyed the tea-bags by the coffeemaker; being college food service, it was pretty much down to a generic green tea and Earl Grey, and the packets likely predated the War on Terror. I'd just poured the hot water when Emma spoke back up. "Hey, what about you?"
"Huh?" I said, not catching her meaning. I tore the packet open and placed the bag into the cup.
"What're you doing over break?" she clarified. "You going home, too? You only live a few hours away, right?" She got that teasing tone in her voice. "Or're you going home with Tammy again…?"
"I'm not," I said, annoyed. "I don't want them thinking I'm just gonna show up to crash at their place and sit in on their jam sessions and…stuff…all the time. They're too nice to be a bad guest to."
"Wait, are you not going home, either?" she asked, the teasing tone abandoned for mild concern. "Who's gonna wind you, then?"
"I, uh…oh. Huh." I hadn't thought of that. My brain chattered for a moment while I considered it. "…I'll be fine, I guess," I said, a little hesitantly. "I've stopped before, and there was no harm done."
Emma reached over and turned her head to stare at me. "Are you serious? You don't even run for a full day on one winding. You're just gonna…what, skip damn near two weeks of your life like it's nothing?"
"It's not like I'm gonna miss much," I said, whirring uneasily as I started loading up another bowlful of cookies.
"…Geez, Sue," she said, after just staring for a moment. "That…can't be healthy."
"I'll be fine, okay?" I sighed, giving my tea-bag a jiggle. "Heck, I'll be safer staying put than you guys will traveling, if you want to get right down to it."
She sighed and said nothing, piling up cookies until they were nearly falling out; then she grabbed another bowl and set it on top for a lid, clamping them together in one hand as she picked herself up with the other. I followed suit, grabbing my tea as we left the cafeteria and swung by the print center upstairs. I ran off a copy of my essay on one of the non-cursed printers, and we headed back to the dorm.
Tammy gave Emma a Look as we entered and I unloaded the cargo. "If I were you," she remarked, "I'd start charging her."
"Hey, I help wind her, y'know," Emma said in mock-annoyance, as she tore into the cookies.
Tammy cocked an eyebrow and turned to me. "Hey, yeah, wait. Are you just staying here? Who's gonna wind you while we're gone?"
"Um, I'll be fine, I think," I said. "I mean, we already know it doesn't hurt if I run down…"
She gave me a look of concern. "Well, yeah, in itself it might be harmless, but…what if it happens at a bad time? Or what if, like, the cleaning staff come through and knock you over or something? Trust me, there's a lot that can happen when you're immobilized and don't have anyone around to help you out."
I was a bit taken aback; Emma protesting it on general principle was one thing, but Tammy actually knew about this stuff. I wondered if it was really a good idea, but what were my alternatives? "…Look, it'll be okay," I sighed. "It doesn't happen all at once, remember. I'll know when I'm hitting my limit, get situated, and basically just take a nap, that's all. I'll be fine."
She gave me a look indicating that she didn't really believe me any more than I did, but sighed and nodded. "Well, okay, then. Just…be safe, okay?"
"For sure," I said, giving the printout a once-over as I got my things in order. I gave her the best I could muster for an appreciative smile. "Gotta get through one last bit of pointlessness first, though. I'll see you guys later."
Class was every bit as perfunctory as we all knew it would be; we showed up, dropped off our assignments, and promptly tuned out, secure in the knowledge that nothing of importance was going to happen until the new year…but the instructor insisted on lecturing anyway. Some of us gamely tried to pay attention, and nobody wanted to risk getting dinged on their essay by walking out, but most of the class could hardly even pretend to care.
I did make an honest attempt…but I couldn't keep it up. Not wanting to look rude, I sat there staring at the board and nodding occasionally; inside my head, I was trying to model a game of solitaire. I wondered: did Grace ever do this with Eve? Was my imaginary deck of cards shuffled more or less randomly than hers? What even was "random," if a perfectly-ordered deck was theoretically a valid shuffle result…?
Finally, she reached a conclusion, offered us a pile of assorted holiday well-wishes, and sent us on our way. I exited the classroom in a state of mild shock at the thought that I now had almost a fortnight to kill before I had to be anywhere or do anything. Well, I wasn't going to be awake for most of it, but still – what was I supposed to do with myself…?
I ended up deciding to trek back to the student union for another cup of tea – but as I was heading down the hallway of the liberal-arts building to the elevator, I saw Anne exiting one of the classrooms. She turned, smiled, and waved me down with an immediacy and precision that would've been eerie if it weren't for the way I announced my presence these days with all the noise I made just operating.
"H–hey," she grinned, coming over to meet me. "You, uh, you g–got some last assignments too, huh?"
I nodded. "Just the one, but yeah. You?"
"Th–that was the last of them," she said. "I got my, uh, project turned in for the s–s–sewing group on, uh, Friday."
I didn't know we had a sewing group, I thought, but I wasn't surprised that she was in it. "That's, uh…that's great," I said, my internals chattering as I wondered whether her "project" would end up on me at some point. "…Any plans for the break?"
She smiled. "My, um, my c–cousin's in The Nutcracker this year. We're g–gonna go see her."
"Oh, cool," I replied. I remembered way back when, when the child of a family friend was a regular in a local production, and I'd get dragged to see it like clockwork every December. Kid-me found the imagery kinda captivating and the music engaging, but I never could make head or tail of what was supposed to be going on because nobody ever said anything. I wondered if it'd make any more sense now…
"Uh-huh!" she said, vibrating with excitement again. "She g–gets to be one of the, uh, the dolls. I'm so jealous…"
"I bet," I said, smiling fondly in spite of the palpable awkwardness that Anne radiated. She was odd, but nice enough when you got to know her that it didn't seem to matter. And if her interests were a little weird (or, at least, weirdly intense,) well, I wasn't in a position to throw stones…
"Wh–what, um, about you?" she asked. "Any, uh, p–plans?"
"Nah," I said. "My roommates'll be gone, so I'll be pretty much left to my own devices." I wondered why that didn't sound as appealing as I thought it should.
"Aww," she said. "I'd, uh, I'd let you st–stay in my room so you'd have some c–company, but I have to pack my dolls up and, uh, bring them with. Some of the s–s–sophomores said that, um, stuff in the dorms can go, uh, 'missing' over break."
I pictured myself standing frozen in her room, posed in the "company" of the other dolls, and felt a little notional shudder run through my head; but I was more concerned by the other thing she'd said. What if the dorm staff had "bad apples?" If I was stuck there, unable to even sense anything, let alone react…
Maybe I could go into low-power mode. I knew from that time at the lake that I had some degree of control over my systems. Suppose, instead of staying active until I ran down, I forced myself into time-lapse right off the bat; could I stay technically "awake" and minimally alert the whole time?
…and if I could, would that make this a good idea…?
"U–um, anyway," Anne said, "I, uh, I gotta go p–pack. Um, I hope you have a good rest. Uh, h–here." Unprompted, she came around back of me and wound me up, then circled around front and pulled me into a hug. "Um, m–m–merry Christmas," she said, smiling warmly as one eye peeked through her thick, heavy bangs to gleam at me in a not wholly unsettling manner.
"I, um…thanks," I said, smiling in spite of the mild eeriness, mechanisms ticking away unperturbed. "Merry Christmas, Anne."
She went on her way, and I fished my MP3 player out of my purse, put on my headphones, and went back to the cafeteria for my tea. The student union was nearly deserted; just about everybody who didn't have any last-minute assignments had left over the weekend, and the handful of students who weren't going someplace else were mostly holed up in their rooms enjoying whatever "holiday cheer" the remaining RAs were conveniently overlooking.
The campus had the eerie desolation of an empty theater about it, as if I'd stumbled into a world that was closed until next season, where the actors had all gone home and the sets were about to be torn down. For reasons I couldn't understand, this filled me with a nervous, restless energy, like there was something I needed to do, somewhere I needed to be, if I could only think of it. Like I belonged anywhere but here, in this in-between place, in this time-between-times; like I might suddenly vanish, packed away with the props and sets and costumes, if I were caught in here at the wrong moment. What was it that had me so rattled…?
Well, the gathering storm wasn't helping, I thought, as a violent gust roared up from the lake and assailed the building, right around the time that Pink Floyd's "Echoes" dissolved into eerie psychedelic wind noises and whalesong guitar cries. I really hoped Emma was right about her flight; the Lakeside airport was alright, but it was strictly for turboprop commuter flights, and I'd always found those a little unnerving even in good weather.
I remained weirdly affected all the way back through the tunnels – run, run, the ostinato guitar line insisted, but where was I running to? What was I running toward? The delicate, haunting organ figures made it a mystery…
But the song had reached its conclusion by the time I got back to the women's dorm. I stowed the headphones and walked back down the hall, satiated as if I'd just eaten a full meal, but still feeling a bit strange. It felt oddly like I was walking out into the storm, but it had yet to break, and it certainly wasn't going to make landfall in our dorm room…
I could hear voices from inside our suite. Something struck me funny, but it was only once I entered that I realized there were three people talking. Emma wasn't in our side of the suite, the light was off, and the bathroom door was shut. Who was our visitor? I couldn't make out the words, but the voice seemed familiar. I took off my shoes, but I was too distracted to do anything more; I stumbled into the bathroom, hastily flicked on the light, and pushed through to Tammy's side.
"Oh, here she is!" I heard Emma say. "Sorry 'bout the door, Sue; we weren't sure if she'd be weirded out by Lucky. You didn't tell us she was coming to visit…!"
Blinking in confusion, I got my bearings, looked around the room, and froze.
"Hey," Tammy said, hearing my tempo surge, "you okay there?"
I stared at the figure on the couch, my brain clattering; at the familiar, weary face, the graying hair, the square-framed spectacles that caught the light just so as to glint sharply…
"Oh my God," the visitor said. "Stuart…?"
I felt like my whole mechanism was going to seize up, but that was only my emotions talking.
"Mom!?"
The wind howled.
For a long moment, I just stood there, that metaphorical sinking feeling permeating every cog, pawl, worm-gear, and God-knew-what-else in my body. There was no getting out of it now – she knew. Oh, sure, it was one thing for my roommates, for my classmates, for all my friends and acquaintances to know, here in this safe, isolated space – but for my family…my mother…?
I hadn't realized 'til now, but some part of my brain was convinced that, if nobody knew about this – for certain values of "nobody" – then it wasn't truly real; that the cat was neither alive nor dead until observed. Part of me believed – or wanted to believe – that if I could just muddle on through and get to the point of changing back without being discovered, that it would be as if it never happened, and therefore didn't "count." That I'd never have to face explaining to…to her…what I'd become…
This was patent nonsense – the odds of becoming the old me again were astronomical, if it was even possible, and it was absurd to think that if I became a male demi-human, it wouldn't raise nearly as many questions. And it wasn't like becoming what I used to be would undo what I'd been through in the last two months – everything I'd done, experienced, felt…
…and it didn't matter anyway, because now she knew.
It was absurd to think that this could ever have been avoided. I could hardly have cut off contact, vanished into the night, and gone to "start over" on the far side of the world even if I'd wanted to. But for the past couple months I'd been living under the illusion that everything here was somehow separate from my old life, compartmentalizing it and putting the issue out of my head. Now there was no getting around it…no way to avoid admitting the truth about what I'd allowed to happen to myself…
I couldn't get consumed by things like fear or panic the way I could as a human, not without that hormonal charge. I knew this by now. So why – and how – did I feel this suffused with embarrassment? She knew – she knew – that I'd screwed up, that I'd done something stupid, that my life was never going to be the same and it was all my fault. I felt my tempo slowly accelerating… What must she think of me? I was supposed to be going out into the world, fulfilling my potential, becoming something to be proud of…and now I was this. A freak, a changeling, a bizarro girlified simulacrum of her son…
"Stuart, talk to me." I whirred in surprise as the familiar voice snapped me out of my thoughts, accompanied by the familiar sigh. "It really is you, isn't it?" she muttered nervously, half to herself. "I wasn't sure whether to believe them, but I'd know those habits of yours anywhere."
(Emma looked like she was about to make a smart remark, but Tammy shot her a Look and brandished her caudal fin meaningfully.)
"I, uh…" I stammered, wondering what I could even say, "I…can explain…" But I couldn't for the life of me think of how I could explain in a way that didn't give exactly the same impression as a straight recounting of the events leading up to this would.
"I got the story from your roommates," she replied. "But can you explain why something like this happened to my child and this is the first I'm hearing of it?" Her voice was firm and cool, but began to quaver a little. "Why I've barely heard from you for two months, and when I asked, you told me things were fine? Why you were a no-call-no-show on Thanksgiving? God in heaven, Great-Grandma Drosselmeyer was asking about you the whole time and I didn't even know what to tell her…!"
…Oh. Right. That.
"Wait, did you seriously ghost your mom?" Emma said, astonished. The "smoke" billowing from her neck formed little surprised curlicues that I half-expected to turn into interrobangs like this was a Felix the Cat cartoon or something. It'd make as much sense as the rest of my life right now…
I felt myself juddering uncontrollably as mere embarrassment was drowned in a wave of real, actual shame. I sank onto the couch and buried my face in my hands, feeling like I should be blushing hard enough to self-immolate. Why had I done that…? Well, obviously, because it was easier to not tell her than it was to face up to it. But she couldn't just let it be, and I had to tell her something… "I…I didn't know what to say," I murmured.
"So you lied?" my mother asked sharply.
"I…thought I could handle it," I groaned. "I thought I could get this, um, fixed, and then…" No; it'd only be another lie to pretend that of course I would've told her then. "…I dunno."
For a moment I just sat there, clattering. I could hardly bear to look at her, and when I did, I saw disappointment, confusion, and injury in her face, which she never seemed to realize I could read. Her soft hazel eyes were damp at the corners, and her right eyelid was twitching slightly. Tammy reached over to put a hand on my shoulder, and I shrank away, wishing that the person she maybe liked wasn't the kind of person to do this.
"Oh, Stuart," she sighed, in that matter-of-fact way that cut like a knife; then, more sharply, "Is there anything else you weren't telling me?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but it felt like there was a traffic jam in my brain; like the things I intended to say were about to be cut in line by things I was afraid to say to her, or to even admit to myself. "…Classes really are going fine," I said, after a moment.
She stared at me, visibly surprised; no doubt she'd assumed I was also screwing up academically… "That's…good, I suppose," she said, her face enigmatic, glasses glinting in the light.
"She's making friends, too," Emma put in – literally putting herself into the middle of the conversation, held out at arm's length – in an attempt to be helpful. "Not just us – Sue, you oughta tell her about Anne and the gaming group. And Gil," she added teasingly, cocking her head to one side and flashing me a sly grin.
My tempo surged as I tried to figure out how Emma knew about that – he wouldn'tve told her, would he? No, surely not; was it another things she thought she could read in my face? Or just a shot in the dark? – and whether my mother had caught on; but she was busy regarding the disembodied head in front of her with a more-than-mildly-unsettled expression. I could see her subtly flinch every time Emma made a gesture with herself, and I knew the look she got when she was visibly trying not to say something; I also knew that one of the few childhood terrors she'd admit to still being freaked out by was the old "Legend of Sleepy Hollow" cartoon. How could I tell Emma to dial it down without coming out and saying it…?
But she handled the issue before I had to make any uncomfortable decisions, moving away from Emma and sitting down on the other end of the couch. For a while, we just sat there, saying nothing; I stared blankly at the opposite wall, feeling my internals gradually settle into a more normal rhythm. I sighed, opened my mouth, and closed it again.
I'm sorry. Why was that so hard to say? We both knew I was at fault; it was my poor judgement and carelessness that'd gotten me changed, and my cowardice that led me to fudge the truth. I should be apologizing. But part of me wanted to push back against that idea, to argue that it wasn't my idea for me to even be here, in this program, and that if I weren't, I would never have been in the lab that night, and none of this would've ever happened…
…but I'd never have met Tammy or Emma – or Gil, or Anne, or any of the weirdos in the CS crowd. I'd never have gotten the strange little pet I was growing fond of. I'd never have met Grace, never talked with her about free will and determinism; and I'd never have met her little girl who was so taken with me that she might even choose to be like me. I might never have gotten to admit that my interest in metamorphic science was more than academic, more than just a job prospect. Would that be worth it? If I could trade all that away to never have come here, would I…?
My thoughts were interrupted by a tug on my skirt, and I looked down to see Lucky, who'd ambled over from the other room. Smiling in spite of the circumstances, I picked her up and set her in my lap; then I realized that my mother had caught me wearing a skirt. I hadn't thought anything of it this morning, I realized, as I glanced nervously at her, wondering if she'd noticed; but she was focused on the little mushroom-girl. Her eyes traveled back up my body, over my skirt, past the neckline where my cami straps peeked out from the collar of my ratty T-shirt, to meet my gaze.
"Who was she?" she asked acerbically.
It took a moment for me to understand what she meant, and I heard Emma snort. Had she really not noticed…? "She, uh, she wasn't a 'who,'" I said hastily, "she was a 'what.' A lab rat." To us, it was clearly ridiculous to think of a person becoming a mere…not-exactly-animal…but that was because we knew that kind of thing didn't happen; and she didn't know much about metamorphics.
"Mm," she murmured noncommittally, as I stroked my weird little ex-rat's cap. She was doing it again; that thing where she was clearly thinking something, but wouldn't say it. She was easy to read, most of the time, but she could be so difficult to figure out…
"They're called 'homunculi,'" Tammy explained. "Animal test subjects have a tendency to become more humanlike than natural animals, but they never cross the line into being people."
"What about the other way around?" She'd glanced pointedly at Tammy's fish half at the mention of the divide between people and animals, but hadn't said anything. I never could figure out what she thought about demi-humans; I'd never heard her speak badly of them, but she'd always seemed uncomfortable when I talked about the subject, and I'd learned to stop bringing it up.
"No, never," Tammy replied. I was surprised to see a look of relief flash across my mother's face; had she thought that was one of the dangers of metamorphic research…?
"But there are limitations that come with these…changes," she fretted, getting that uneasy look I'd seen before.
"Well, naturally, yeah," Tammy said, a bit miffed; of course, my mother didn't know about Tammy's history, since I'd never told her about my roommates in the first place. "But there's no danger of becoming less than a person."
"And there's upsides, as well," Emma said cheerily, jauntily bouncing her head in her hands; I could see my mother squirm. "You can't breathe underwater, can you? Or be in two places at once? But we can, now. It's a trade-off."
"And what are the 'upsides' of what's happened to my child?" she asked sharply. The question was aimed at Emma, but to my surprise, I found myself trying to come up with an answer. Why? What interest did I have in…in defending this to her? Was it some kind of futile attempt to prove that this wasn't a screw-up on my part…?
Emma spent a moment visibly trying to puzzle it out, canting her head this way and that and driving my poor mother to distraction, but for her part, she seemed as stumped as I was. No surprise; looking at it rationally, I was now completely dependent on other people and a sexless mannequin on top of that, and all I had to show for it (besides being the envy of my weird doll-collector friend) was being slightly better at the kind of math problems nobody does in their head anyway. What could possibly count as an upside to that…?
Then Tammy wheeled forward. "You haven't seen her dance," she said. "When I saw her cut loose – saw her really let herself go – over Thanksgiving…that was honestly the happiest I've ever seen her." She got a strangely nostalgic smile at the memory, then collected herself and shrugged. "Whether it makes up for anything, I dunno, but Stu was definitely never like that before."
Was I really that happy…? I saw an expression of honest surprise and intrigue – perhaps, even, a hint of delight? – on my mother's face for a moment (and on Emma's – had Tammy not told her about that?) but she soured at the mention of Thanksgiving, and I felt another stab of guilt. She said nothing, but she was obviously brooding again…
While I tried to guess at what she was thinking, a sudden chirp echoed through the bathroom. "Oh, geez," Emma said with a start, "that's my—" She grimaced. "Shit, I gotta hustle. I figured I'd be all packed and ready to go by now, but then we had company." Trailing an agitated plume of "smoke," she grabbed herself and dashed into our room, hastily throwing her stuff together.
"When's your flight depart?" I asked, grateful for the distraction.
"An hour and a half," she called over, "but the bus takes forty minutes to get up to the airport, and it leaves from campus in fifteen. Then there's security…" She groaned and redoubled her efforts.
My mother fished out her pocket watch and popped it open. "The bus isn't running," she announced.
"WHAT!?" Emma yelped, still frantically packing.
"It was on the advisory sign over the freeway," she replied antsily. "The city line stopped service at five due to inclement weather. From the sound of it, they're expecting something on the level of the Halloween Blizzard."
"You people have blizzards on HALLOWEEN!?"
I patted Lucky fretfully, wishing there was anything I could do to help – but I hadn't bought a car, since the bus ran everywhere I needed to go, and I wasn't sure I could safely drive like this if I had one – not that I'd run down going fifteen minutes up the hill, but were my reflexes good enough? (Not to mention fitting in the driver's seat with my key…!) And I didn't know anybody we could call in a pinch – Tammy couldn't drive at all, Anne was probably gone, Gil left for home yesterday…
I heard my mother sigh softly, almost inaudibly – almost, but as usual, never quite to the point where I couldn't hear it. "…I'll take her," she said uneasily, getting up and retrieving her jacket from the coatrack.
"Really?" Emma said, surprised. "Ohthankgod. Gimme a minute, I'm nearly done here."
"Are you, um, are you sure…?" I asked; I'd seen how uncomfortable she was around Emma.
"It's the least I can do," she said, fidgeting nervously with her glasses. "I did throw off her schedule – and I can't leave someone else's kid stranded away from home for Christmas."
"I, um…" I bit my cloth lip, whirring nervously. "Look, just…drive safely, okay? Migizi Parkway's kinda scary even in good weather."
She seemed a little surprised for a moment, then smiled slightly. "I will, honey."
Emma came back over already bundled up, clutching her head and purse in one arm while the other hefted a travel suitcase and her laptop bag. She set herself down and came toward me; I set Lucky aside and got up from the couch. "G'bye, Sue," she said from the dresser as she hugged me, her flesh-and-blood body pressing softly against my sculpted metal torso. "I'll see you after break, okay?"
It was still a little weird being embraced by a decapitated body, looking straight into that weird shimmering haze above her shoulders; but I smiled despite the stress I was feeling, and hugged her back. "Bye, Emma. I'll…yeah, see you then."
She went over to Tammy, said goodbye, and gave her a hug as well, but I could see her silently mouthing Tell. Me. Everything. as she did; then they went down to the parking lot. When they'd gone, Tammy wheeled around to face me and placed her hands on her hips, at the base of her pectoral fins. "Okay, what the hell."
I groaned as I sank back into the couch, picking up Lucky and holding her close. "…I don't know what else there is to say," I sighed, feeling my internals stutter awkwardly. "You heard…all that."
"You really did just cut off contact?" She didn't sound as aghast as I'd expected, more just surprised and confused. "I…look, I don't mean to pry, but…is there a history here? 'd you have a reason not to tell her?"
I thought back across the years; thought back to countless little things, expressions she didn't realize I could read, quiet sighs, that palpable unease that crept into her voice when the subject turned to things she wasn't comfortable with; thought back to long, awkward conversations about a future I was supposed to be planning for, about how it would be a waste not to capitalize on my natural talents, about how glad she was that I took after—
I shook my head, snapping back to the present. "I, uh…" I stammered, as I tried to think of what to say; how to frame this so that Tammy understood my perspective, so that she didn't think I was being—
And there it was again; my natural inclination to try and put the right spin on everything, to hide the aspects of myself that I didn't want people seeing, to massage the truth just so as to keep people happy with me, as if reality would change based on how I presented it. Why was I like this…?
"…I dunno," I sighed, stroking Lucky; she nuzzled into my hand. "I guess…I was afraid she'd be disappointed in me." And I sure avoided that by lying to her, didn't I…?
"For getting caught in an accident?"
"I mean, I was the one who left the door open," I said glumly.
"You were also the one trying to talk sense into Emma until the last minute," she said. "And the thing with the door was a pretty exceptional coincidence. None of us think that was your fault."
"A–anyway," I said, "it's…not so much whether it was my fault as…why was I involved at all? I only got caught up in this whole big life-altering mess because I can't say 'no.'"
She crossed her arms over her chest and gave me a Look, fins raised in exasperation. "That's a funny way of saying you were looking out for your friends, there."
"That's a funny way of saying I was fooling around irresponsibly due to peer pressure and got myself in trouble," I sighed, rattling in mild irritation. "Look, point is, I'm supposed to be here studying for my degree, not getting my whole life turned upside-down by extracurricular shenanigans."
"I mean, you are doing that, though," Tammy said. "Apparently it's the one thing you could be honest with her about. And honestly, who doesn't do some crazy shit in college? At least you got in trouble with something related to your studies and not, like, developing a drug problem or getting someone pregnant."
I grimaced. No danger of that anymore… "I'm not sure that helps, much," I said. "She's…not too comfortable with metamorphics, I don't think."
She cocked an eyebrow. "You think that's what that was?"
"Yeah." I nodded. "We had a…pretty involved talk about that when I applied. I still don't get why, but she wasn't really on board with it."
"…Huh." She nodded thoughtfully, her pectoral fins twitching. "And you didn't just 'get in trouble,' you got transformed…"
"…Yeah." I sighed heavily. "I…I thought she'd think that…that I did this on purpose. That I wanted this. And…I was afraid to have that conversation. But I was fooling myself thinking I could actually get out of it, I guess…" Lucky nudged up against me, and I smiled a little in spite of myself.
Tammy sighed and shrugged. "Wish I had a nicer way to put this, but yeah, you were. Look, I…I don't know what help I can actually be here, but…I'm pulling for you, okay? You can't change the decisions you already made, but…it's up to the two of you to decide what actually comes out of this."
She wheeled over next to the couch, leaned over, and put an arm around me, gently squeezing my shoulder. I sighed and accepted the embrace, wondering what outcome I did want as I sat there, waiting quietly, trying to prepare myself to weather this…
The storm hit campus all at once; the wind abated for a moment, and then a great gust of snow and ice assaulted the dorm. The building was too sturdy to be shaken by it, but the windows rattled pretty good.
Lucky started at the noise and buried her face into my unyielding metallic bosom; I patted her gently, and we sat there in the kind of dense, all-encompassing silence that only comes in a blizzard. Outside, the wind moaned and the snow pattered heavily against the walls; inside, it was so still you could hear the clock tick – but the clock in question was me, ticking away in quiet regularity, metering out what felt like an eternity in precise increments.
The blizzard-silence does funny things to your head. You are at once both intensely aware that you are at the mercy of Nature's implacable might, and safely isolated from its fury. You feel a bit like a rabbit hidden away in a dug-out root hollow as a predator stalks around the other side of the tree; you may be safe, but something compels you not to break the silence. And the people around you are also affected, so despite the company, you just sit there in quiet, uneasy contemplation…
My mechanisms stayed even and quiet under the weight of the silence; but I couldn't stop thinking about her, out on the road. About what the pavement conditions were like right now. About the roller-coaster slope coming down the hillside, and the bend where, I'd heard, there had stood an exotic-fish shop – until an eighteen-wheeler lost control, skidded off the road, and obliterated the entire building one dark winter night…
I wondered about Emma, too. Would she be gone when the storm rolled up out of the lake basin? When did her flight depart, again? Hell, what time was it now? How long had we been sitting here, in the Silence? My own body was counting out time, yet I felt unmoored from any temporal frame of reference. Maybe Time itself had come unmoored, I thought. Maybe this was it, the final curtain; maybe the world would end in ice. Maybe tomorrow the Sun would rise feebly in the grey sky over a land frozen in absolute stillness, where not a clock still ticked and the Silence held illimitable dominion over all.° Maybe…
…maybe then, I wouldn't have to have this conversation…
° (The storm before the calm, I thought to myself, but the Silence suppressed my snicker.)
I shook my head, trying to snap myself out of it. God, this was interminable – how long had we sat here? How long did it take to drive up to the airport and back? I wanted to contact her, to know she was okay; but she couldn't stop to reply, and didn't need the distraction. But what if she wasn't…? It took me back ages, to the Before-Time when cell phones weren't ubiquitous and you might just have to wait, alone in an empty house, for someone's return; imagining the possibilities, never knowing for sure until the moment they walked in the door and that feeling of relief washed over you…
And then – there it was. Footsteps in the hallway; that brisk, punctual stride I'd know even through the zip-zop-zip-zop of snow boots. I felt relief mingled with dread. It was her, she was safe; she was here, and there was no getting out of this… I clutched Lucky to my chest and scritched her cap nervously. I didn't know what to expect here, and I was terrified that I'd screw it up; but I'd done far too much evasion already, and I knew what I had to say more than anything else. That'd be a start.
"Is she…always like that…?" my mother asked, as she entered, kicked off her boots, hung up her jacket, and sank down onto the couch next to me.
Tammy gave her a curious look. "Um, yeah, pretty much," she said, not knowing what was getting to her as I did, but figuring it was a safe bet that Emma was always "like that."
I nodded. "Yeah, ever since the change," I said, relieved to see her safe and not too traumatized, and glad to let my thoughts turn from the impending conversation. "It's apparently a subconscious mimicry of human body language. Her body may be a semi-distinct entity, as well."
"I…see." She suppressed a shudder. "Well, it was lucky we got there when we did; sounds like they're delaying later flights until the storm lets up. She caught the last plane out." She sounded as relieved as we were, for slightly different reasons.
I saw her shiver – and fail to keep from glancing at the blanket folded up atop the couch. As ever, she'd go out of her way to avoid anything she thought of as being a bother, even something trivial… I draped it over her shoulders. "Oh, ah, thank you, honey," she said, giving me an awkward half-smile as she wrapped it around herself.
Why was she always like this? Why couldn't she ever just say what she meant? Tell me what she wanted? Why was I left to figure this stuff out for myself? To guess whether I was doing what she expected of me, or letting her down…?
Well, I knew that last one, didn't I…? Which brought me back to what I knew I had to say, but kept dancing around actually saying. I took a deep breath – another weird tic meant to help me "pass" as something I no longer was – and forced myself to speak the words. "Um, I'm…I'm sohhhsss…"
She was visibly surprised, and quickly escalated into mild alarm. "Stuart? What's happening? Are–are you choking? Honey, talk to me…!"
Dammit, why now, of all times…? Okay, I'd only had two cups today, and I'd done a lot of talking, but still…! I waved my hands, trying to communicate that this was nothing to worry about, but she misread it as panicking. "No, it's okay, Mrs. Freeman!" Tammy interjected, rolling up between us as she grew increasingly frantic. "This is, um, normal…!?"
She didn't look convinced, but she glanced over and realized I clearly wasn't choking. I motioned for her to wait and went to the bathroom for a glass of water. "Hhhit's fine," I said, as it came to a boil. "This is, uh, just how my voice works, now…" I felt a pang of embarrassment at being so…weird. Sure, I wasn't the Headless Freshman, but what if I was making her uncomfortable just being this…?
She nodded, getting that uneasy look again. I probably was, wasn't I…? Good going, me. And I still haven't said it…
"I, um…look." I kicked idly at the floor, trying to find the words again. "I'm…sorry. I shouldn'tve kept it from you, or told you things were fine when they weren't. And…I know," I groaned, "I shouldn'tve gotten involved in this stuff at all…"
At first she was surprised, but nodded along with me; but she seemed taken aback at the last part. "It's just…" I continued, rattling quietly, "…I didn't know what to say. I thought if I told you, you'd misunderstand and&heliip;think I wanted this; so I was afraid to. But…I shouldn't have lied. I should've trusted you more. And…I'm sorry for that."
I sat back down, leaning forward so my key could turn. I heard her sigh beside me. "…I forgive you, honey," she said; I could hear her growing fretful again. "I just…I worry about you. I never know what you're thinking, and you won't tell me. And you don't seem to care about your own future; I had to drag you through applying. This is an important phase of your life, and I worry that all the burdens you won't share with anyone are going to keep you from ever making it off the starting block."
I bristled, a buffer spring in my head zizzing away; she clearly noticed, and I wondered if she knew what it meant. God, speaking of conversations I don't want to have… "It's not as if I asked for that," I muttered, half to myself; but I wasn't quiet enough, and I saw in her face that she'd heard me just fine. Down below, Lucky scuttled nervously back to her terrarium.
"Stuart Josef Freeman, you listen to me," she said indignantly, turning to face me directly. Her glasses caught the light again, obscuring her eyes. "You cannot just expect the whole world to sit and wait until you decide you're ready to start engaging with it. It'll come at you like it or not, and I do not want to see my child blindsided by that when there's anything I can do to help. It's a tough enough race to run when you are prepared for it."
I felt myself kicking into high gear, as I thought back over awkward conversations, probing questions, "suggestions" that never came across that way, little hints about where I got my natural aptitudes… "And when did I ask to be put in this 'race!?'" I said testily, humming like a swarm of brass hornets. "I don't recall anyone consulting me! Did I ask to be saddled with everyone's expectations? Did I request a spot in the Don't Screw Up Olympics!? Did—"
"Did I solicit thee from darkness to promote me?" The words hit like a bucket of cold water. The fretfulness was gone, and there was fire in her voice. "No, Stuart, you did not. You were given life because someone cared about you before you even existed, enough to give you the most precious thing they had to offer. Yes, it's difficult and confusing, but don't you pretend for a second that you prefer the alternative."
Something within me ground hard. Was she just projecting her fears onto me, or did she really think I felt that way…? I wanted to get mad, but I saw her trembling, and I felt myself start to shake slightly. "I…I don't," I stammered, wondering how I ever gave her that idea, if I had. "God, I don't! Listen, I'm…so confused right now, and I'm scared about what will happen to me, what I might become. But I've never felt like that – honest."
It was true, I realized. On this bizarre journey, I'd been scared, confused, upset, uncomfortable, angry, even a bit depressed – but I'd never really despaired over this. Maybe it was because my feelings couldn't consume me anymore; or was I just too busy trying to cope with this and keep up with college life on top of that…? I sighed. "I just…don't understand why it's my job to figure out what people want from me…"
Tammy had been quietly observing us the whole time, watching me to see if I was okay. Now I saw her open her mouth like she wanted to speak; but she decided that it'd be a bad idea to butt in, and said nothing. Her pectoral fins twitched uneasily.
My mother gave me a Look. "'What people want from you?' Stuart, your life is yours to live. The only reason I had to get involved is because you wouldn't decide for yourself, under any amount of prodding, and I couldn't let you wait around forever while life passed you by."
"Oh?" I said, feeling irritable again. Was it really as passive as that? It hadn't felt that way; with all the discussion about not "wasting" my talents, about how good a fit I was for science or engineering, did she really expect me to believe that she'd be okay with it if I…if I'm thinking of switching majors—
It was only after I thought it that I realized I'd said it. Oh, that was just perfect – yet another thing I didn't want to talk about, laid out there on top of everything else we could never seem to communicate to each other. And now she'd act all wounded because I was rejecting the plans I'd forced her to make for me, and—
"Oh," she said, surprised. "…I suppose it's better to do that early on. But…are you sure…? I really do think this is a good fit for your abilities, and there's your scholarships to consider, and…and…"
"…and you've always thought it was nice that I take after Dad – I know. But…I'm not him. I can't be him for you." I was a bit surprised at not being immediately guilt-tripped. She'd seemed so invested in this; wasn't it what she wanted me to be? "I'm…not sure what I am anymore, but…I'm someone else, no matter what I got from him. And…" I could feel myself clamping down on a runaway mechanism, keeping it under control; and I saw her looking a bit taken aback, but I continued.
"And I'm…not sure yet. I need to think it over, and everything's been so crazy that I haven't had time. But…I'm not in the metaphysics program because I had a plan for it, I'm just…here because there wasn't anywhere better for me to be. And I've been…" I hesitated, still feeling awkward, still afraid to say it – but what did I have to lose? We were already so far into Things I Did Not Want To Talk About that it hardly made a difference…
"…I've been…considering going into post-transformation rehab and demi-human therapy," I said, forcing the words out of my mouth. "Um, I mean, as a therapist. Professionally. It's…it's a good job, and it suits my interests, and…" I trailed off, whirring nervously as she got that uneasy look again.
"Stuart," she said, after a brief, uncomfortable silence, "were you…being honest with me when you said it'd be a misunderstanding if I thought you wanted this…?" She fixed me with an inquisitive stare, her soft hazel eyes locked with mine; there was something in her face that I couldn't read…
My body…sort of seized up. For a moment, I felt a disconnect, like I was an outside observer and the person sitting on the couch was someone else. Then I was back, but something in my head was clicking as it got stuck trying to move past a certain point, like a record skipping a groove; both Tammy and my mother were staring in concern. I closed my eyes, clenched my teeth, and focused, and it finally slipped past the sticking point.
I took a deep breath. "I never intended on changing myself," I said, slowly and deliberately; I wanted her to understand this. "I never felt like I wanted to be something else; and I never anticipated becoming this. The only reason I didn't try to change into something closer to my old self right away is that we got in trouble over it, and we were banned from touching the device until they say so. Does that answer your question?"
She nodded, slowly, but didn't look very convinced. I frowned; was I not clear? Everything I said was factually accurate, wasn't it?
So…why did it feel like I was trying to massage the truth again…?
I shook my head and tried to focus. "I…I'm serious," I said, starting to judder a little; she had to believe me, didn't she? It was one thing for Emma to blithely assume that she knew me better than I did, but for her… "That's…not why this stuff interests me; I just…find it fascinating, okay? I know you're not comfortable with it, but…this is part of who I am, and I want you to understand that…to understand me."
"Honey, I…" She trailed off, looking a little hurt, but considered it for a moment. "…I guess I'm not, am I? I just…yes, I did think you were intending to…to alter yourself. It seemed like a natural conclusion when you started showing interest in that stuff. And…" She sighed. "You're my child, Stuart, and I love you, and I've never thought that anything was wrong about you. I'll just say that outright. So it hurt to think that…that you might feel that way." I could hear the quaver returning to her voice.
"But more than that…honestly, honey, you couldn't even decide on a major for yourself; how could you possibly be sure about something like that? Gambling your own body on a matter of chance? It's not like…like getting a tattoo, for God's sake…!" I looked away uncomfortably, and she threw up her hands. "And even if you could try again, what if you never ended up as something you were comfortable with? I'd hate to see you do that to yourself…"
She shook her head slowly. "But…I'm sorry if I made you feel like…like I thought there was something wrong with you for…that. And if that wasn't how you felt, well, I'm sorry for projecting; but it seems to be an occupational hazard, one way or another. I just…" She gave another heavy sigh. "I worry about you, honey. Because I care about you, and sometimes it seems like you don't."
I wasn't sure how to feel. It was a relief to hear her say that she didn't think I was a…a freak for being interested in this; but it hurt to think that she'd just assume she knew what I was thinking. And was she really okay with it, or was this just a way of saying that she couldn't logically support any formal objections? I still remembered the uncomfortable expressions, the uneasy tone of voice…
I heard her breathing deeply beside me, centering herself; whatever she was about to say, it was something she knew she had trouble with. "So…talk to me, honey," she said quietly, taking my hand in hers. "About…this. This side of you. What you're dealing with. Whatever it is you need to say. I…I'll listen – I promise."
"I, uh, I…" I stammered, surprised. It was strange enough for her to say she was okay with this, but to invite me to talk about it? Did she mean it, then…? My brain was suddenly all a-clatter; I hardly knew where to begin…
"…Honestly, I don't know what to say," I said, sorting through my jumbled thoughts. "This is…just something I find interesting. Learning about demi-humans and how they're put together, what challenges they face in human society, how they fit in, culturally; and, um…what transformees have to say about the experience of being one, and how they adapt to the physiological and psychological changes. I've been fascinated by this stuff since…pretty much forever, I think."
She looked uncomfortable for a moment, but I could see her focus and try to get past it. For myself, I felt relieved at finally being able to admit this to her – hell, at finally being able to admit it to myself – but I still didn't know what to expect here…
"Go on," she said. Down on the floor, Lucky – who'd crept cautiously back to Tammy's side of the suite – came over and tugged on her skirt, apparently mistaking her for me. She absent-mindedly reached down and picked the little critter up, idly scratching her cap.
I shrugged, unsure of where to go from here. She still squirmed a little at the various noises I made – as the shutters of my irises adjusted, the actuators in my limbs extended and retracted, the different parts of my brain surged or slowed with my thoughts and feelings – and I thought, for the first time, about how alien this must seem from her perspective. Did she truly recognize me as her son? I knew my face was roughly familiar, but against the strangeness of the rest? Could she even see a thing like this as a person…?
"I'm…a clockwork automaton," I said. Maybe I could ease that feeling by explaining? Putting a name to it, making it concrete…? "Not a conventional robot. They did some scans and…I'm all spring-powered machinery inside. They're still trying to work out how that equates to still being me – how I think and feel and remember – but…apparently, it does."
She frowned. "What happens when…when the spring runs down?"
"I, um…I stop," I said, feeling awkward about it. I could see her turn a little pale. "It's, uh, not harmful," I said hastily. "I come back out of it in the exact same state once I'm, er…wound. For me, it's like no time has passed at all."
"Isn't that…distressing?" she asked.
"…Not really," I said. Okay, the incident at the lake was pretty stressful, but it had more to do with that little ghoul than the experience of running down. "I, um, don't get so stressed out like this, anyway. It's hard for feelings to really take hold of me like they could as a human."
She got a funny look on her face, but didn't say anything. "And can you…wind…yourself?" she asked instead. It was clear from her tone that she knew it was a silly question, but was looking for reassurance.
I sighed and shook my head. "Um, no. I can't really reach, and…even if I could, I can't conjure energy from nothing."
She frowned, caught herself, and tried to force a more neutral expression. It didn't work. "Then…you have to have someone to…to wind you?"
"Well, yeah," I said, surprised at how hung up she was over this. It was still kind of weird on an interpersonal level, but by this point I'd gotten so used to the fact of it that it almost seemed odd to think that it wouldn't be the case. "It's…it's okay," I said, trying to reassure her. "It feels…nice. Sort of like a hug, or having your hair brushed."
She didn't look reassured. "When you…stop…do you, what, collapse? What if you get hurt?"
"…No," I said, after a moment's hesitation. I had tipped over at the lake, but only because I was in an unbalanced position, with no energy left to right myself. "No, I just…freeze in place. And, um…I'm pretty sturdy, really." I tapped my chest; she was a little weirded out at the hollow thump it made. "My body's metal under the 'skin.' I actually weigh more now than I did before."
"But you could get…damaged…? Broken…?" I could see her suppress a shudder. "What would happen to you then? You couldn't very well go to a doctor…"
I shifted uneasily in my seat, thinking back to dreams of animated figurines breaking apart, my nervousness around the water, and the question of how I could possibly self-repair. Just how mortal was I…?
"Well, uh, no," I said. "But…like I said, they've taken scans of how I'm put together, and they're working on modelling how my systems work. So it should be possible to repair me, if I do get injured."
I wished that was as reassuring for me as I meant it to be for her. If you replaced everything in a machine part-for-part, was it still the same machine? The question seemed terribly relevant to me, now. She must've sensed my discomfort, because she changed the subject. "And…you're, ah…well, a girl…"
Something inside me felt a little funny at the way this wasn't phrased like a question. The rest of me felt funny at her bringing up the exact most awkward part of this whole thing, the part that'd caused me the most confusion, interpersonal weirdness, and emotional turmoil… "I, um…yeah, I guess," I said hesitantly, my tempo creeping back upwards. "…Sort of. It's, well…" I sighed heavily. "It's…strictly cosmetic. I'm a…a machine…in the shape of one, that's all."
Oddly, she didn't seem as viscerally uncomfortable as I expected; certainly not like I felt trying to find a delicate way to explain to my mother that I was a damn doll under these clothes. Instead, she spent a long moment silently studying my face, watching my visible discomfort from behind the glare of her spectacles. What did she think of…this? Was a thing like myself a grotesquerie? An imitation? Or merely an object…?
Finally, she put a hand to her forehead and heaved a sigh. "…I see," she said. "This is…it's a lot to take in, honey. I…I do want you to know that you can talk with me about these things, but…do you mind if we pick this back up in the morning? It's…a lot to take in."
Now I felt guilty again; was I pushing beyond her comfort zone? But she was the one who'd asked… And I definitely wasn't eager to delve further into the question of what I was; but it'd taken such a load off my mind finally opening up to her about the rest… What was there left to say, though? I'd given the apology I owed her, and I'd said what I could never find the courage to, hadn't I? Where did you go from there?
I sighed. "Y–yeah. That's, um…that's fine. Tomorrow's fine." She gave me a curious look for a moment, but I nodded in affirmation. Honestly, I could stand to call it a night myself…and if there was anything more to discuss, maybe I'd remember it in the morning.
I rose from the couch, and she followed suit, gently setting Lucky aside. She pulled out her watch, popped it open, and frowned; it'd stopped, but I must've drowned it out and she hadn't noticed. She snapped it shut and held it out in one hand. After sizing it up for a moment, she struck it sharply with the first couple fingers of the other, and it began ticking away once more.
I had to suppress an involuntary flinch. The first time I saw her do that, as a kid, I'd assumed that she must not think much of it, and wondered why she didn't just get a new one. It wasn't until some years later that I thought to ask her, and she explained that it was a precious memento, and she hadn't replaced it because she couldn't bear to part with it. Sometimes, she'd told me, things just need a good sharp whack to get them moving again…
Tammy wheeled over to me as we broke from our seemingly-endless discussion. "You okay there…?" she asked. "I, uh, really wasn't sure if I should get involved or not."
I thought for a moment, and heaved a sigh. "I…think so, yeah. And, um, thanks. I think it was for the best that you didn't, but…thanks for being willing."
She gave me a reassuring smile. "Any time. And…hang in there. You'll figure it out – I know it." She came around back and took hold of my key to wind me. I didn't really need it, if we were about to call it a night, but the sensation was soothing, and I could really use that right now. I shut my eyes and sighed gently, split between strokes; when she finished, I opened them to see my mother standing there, watching us.
I could tell from her expression that she was uncomfortable, a little agitated; and I recognized that nervous, fidgety, oh-here-let-me energy very well. I waited for her to say something, but she took a moment and got ahold of herself instead. "Honey, can…can I use your laptop…?" she asked. "I wanted to look a few things up, but it seems like the weather's killed my reception."
"Uh, sure," I said, with a shrug; there wasn't anything on there that I was afraid of her finding, not anymore… "It's the building, too. They built to keep radiation out, back then. Even on clear days you have to stand near the window."
She smiled slightly and nodded, and I punched in my password for her. Tammy was already getting ready for bed, and I ought to as well; I was freshly wound, but mentally exhausted, and I desperately needed to sleep and let my brain sort things out. I didn't even know what to expect tomorrow…
I started to undress, hesitated, and glanced over my shoulder; she was watching me curiously. I thought about asking her to look away, but…there was nothing more to hide, was there? I shucked off my top, stepped out of my skirt, and stood there in my boxers and camisole, feeling strangely less exposed than I expected. "You can, uh, take Emma's bed," I said, motioning to the other side of the room. "Um….good night."
"…Good night, honey," she said quietly, doing her best to give me a gentle smile. I climbed into bed and pulled up the covers; beside me, she turned to the computer and began tapping away. For a long moment, I watched her out of the corner of my eye; then I dropped into a sleep filled with strange dreams that I could never remember afterward.